


Becoming Estranged

by Violino



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Third Person, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violino/pseuds/Violino
Summary: John is mourning the loss of his daughter. He can't lose the love of his life as well. He must save Sherlock! The only way he can do that is by hurting him.





	

It had been one week since the funeral. John, always the resilient man, was standing motionless facing the door with his hands secured by his sides. Through polished eyes he tried to count the chips as he always did when he needed to regain composure. Living with Sherlock meant it was often enough for him to know that there were exactly 59. At that moment, he could not focus on a single one.

Sherlock was standing behind him, facing the window. He closed his eyes as he attempted to swallow. He felt the muscles in his throat contract and then instantly opened his eyes again. “I know this isn’t the best time to say this but…” He took a deep breath in and continued, “I must be honest with you, John.” Sherlock looked down at his shoes and waited to see if he would respond. He did not. Sherlock whispered, “Did you hear me, John?” He paused, this time looking at the back of John’s head. He was like a child waiting to be scolded by his parents.

The outside light illuminated John’s hair just enough to make it frosty. Sherlock would examine the hairs on John’s neck when needed to find peace but now he could not even begin to count the silver lines.

Sherlock said again, “It is not the best time but I simply must tell you-”.

John broke his daze, turned to look at him and said, “You’re right, Sherlock. It’s not the best time for anything right now. Alright?” The feeling in his hands revived, allowing him to place his left palm against his forehead. He could feel the stinging in his hand. It slowly made its way up to his shoulder. He welcomed the pain for it would give his head a moment to recover.

Time went by and neither of them uttered a word. The only sound was that of the fire snapping.

Sherlock’s mouth was dry. There was no use in swallowing again but he tried, nevertheless. He wandered closer to the window, his hands folded up against his lips. He could see his reflection. He stared at the man in front of him and thought, “What have I become? When?” His thoughts forced him to react and he looked back at John. He told himself “Be a man! Tell him!” He hadn’t realized just how strongly he had been gritting his teeth until he tried to open his mouth to speak again.

Before he could, John chuckled. "Have you ever noticed the paint on the wall here? There’s two different shades of blue“, he said.

Sherlock was now turned facing him. He replied, “No, I had not noticed. The only shades of blue I ever notice are the ones in your eyes.” As soon as John turned his head, Sherlock could see the corner of his steel blue eyes wrinkle.

“What did you say?”, John asked, wondering if he had heard correctly. He glared at Sherlock, trying to read his mind.

“You heard me”, Sherlock replied. “Your eyes have exactly 5 shades of blue, 3 shades of grey, and just a touch of brown. My personal favorite being the ocean blue that you get when you’re upset.” He looked down at his shoes again then back up to face John who had moved in closer, away from the door. Ignoring a stunned John, he continued. "There isn’t much you don’t already know. You know I consider you to be the bravest man I’ve ever known. Despite all that you have suffered you have always managed to remain devoted to those around you, including your obnoxious best friend.” He pointed at himself. “You protect the weak and heal the sick. I not only admire your skills as a doctor but your strength as a soldier and… as a man. You are determined, disciplined, sometimes a bit too drastic but… your brilliance… oh, your brilliance astounds me, John. There are many times when you surpass my own resolutions. We both know a little too well that I don’t favor defeat but if I must surrender to someone then I am honored to do it against you.” Unknowingly, Sherlock had moved in closer to John. His voice got lower and deeper. “You are my best friend, the kindest man I will ever meet, but most of all you are… the person… the man who has made me feel.“

John stood there, saying nothing. His eyes penetrating Sherlock’s eyes, wanting to stop him but unable to speak through the knot in his throat.

With one hand pressed against his shirt over his heart and with devoted eyes fixed on the most beautiful human being he had ever encountered, Sherlock continued, “You…make me…feel…happy. I am complete when I am with you. I am nothing when we are apart. All my life I thought it best if I smothered all feelings, most of all love. Then you came along.“

John found his voice and spoke, “Don’t. Stop.” One hand at his hip and the other motioned towards Sherlock pleading him to stop. He said, “Don’t do this. Not now.“

Sherlock, however, continued. "Let me say this. John, I’m so sorry for what’s happened. I’m sorry about your daughter…about Rosie.” He fought back tears. “I loved her, too. You know that. It was not suppose to be this way! If I could change things, I would. I’d bring her back to you, John. I would take her place, for you.” He paused for a moment to remember her laughter. If he was still hurting he knew John was too. He began to speak quickly to prevent further harm. “Being with you has been exhilarating. Being by your side has made me realize that I do feel. And, John”, Sherlock looked away for a quick second. This time he consumed the only gulp he could. Turning to face him again he said, “I feel…so much.” 

Sherlock’s voice started to fail. His hands started to tremble and his eyes started to react. The tears burned his cheeks as they rolled past down to the floor. Some were heavy like iron and they struck at his chest. He felt his heart beat faster, punching his lungs, making it harder to breathe. His thoughts were unclear of everything but this. He was not going to deny this feeling anymore. He could not. Not anymore. The only thing he fought was his own body, battling himself not to collapse.

Sherlock gasped for air, tried hard not to blink and persisted on. "I have solved so many cases. The ones I haven’t solved, I have learned to embrace. I can live with my cruel imperfections. But if I must live with all of my sins, then let me be redeemed by living the rest of my life caring for you, protecting you… loving you. I cannot live without you.” His voice got stronger. “You are the one thing in this world, the only human being that I refuse to give up on. Your happiness is all that matters to me. If the only success I have is in making you feel as happy as you’ve made me then I have beaten every curse placed upon me. If giving up these… these puzzles means that I can ensure your safety, then so be it. I surrender who I am for who you are.” Sherlock paused for a second, realizing John hadn’t moved at all. He asked himself, “Has he blinked?”

John finally broke his trance. His eyes now focused over Sherlock’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word but his face was relaxed.

Sherlock wasn’t sure if he should continue but he did know that if he stopped now, he might never have this confidence again.

"This ordeal has made me realize that life is precious.” Sherlock no longer felt the punches. He didn’t feel anything but his hands soaked in sweat. “I must say this. I…” He waited for John to look back at him. He drew in what he felt was his last breath and said, “I love you. I am in love with you, John. Let me be clear so that there is no misunderstanding this time. I love you as a man. I want to be with you… always. I need you and I know you need me, too. I would like to think that I’m not wrong in believing this but I beg of you to please reassure me.” He closed his eyes and with his arms down near him he made two strong fists that turned his knuckles a soft yellow. 

The room suddenly turned grey for John. All he saw was Sherlock’s face glowing from the fire that was slowly fading. John was dumbfounded by his beauty. He always had been but there was something about the red flames that night that brightened his features. He stood there, positioned between an “I do” and the door. Although he recognized the courage it took for Sherlock to finally reveal this to him, he felt the need to run away but his legs were locked at the knees. He stood silent.

Sherlock opened his eyes and barely managed to ask, “Do you love me?” There was a dark cloud forming over the sky that was within his eyes. The sweat on his hands had dried from the cold his fists had created and he buried them in his pockets. He felt eternity go by in those few seconds of silence and he thought to himself, “What have I done?” He started to feel ill.

John thought long and hard. Finally he said, “No, Sherlock.” Parting his lips was like trying to move mountains. “I don’t. Not like you want me to. You are…just… you are my friend, my best friend… but um…” His voice began to fail. “A friend. Nothing more.” He knew this wasn’t true but he hoped he could sound convincing. The torture of this lie was too great and he began to cry.

Lightning bolts banged against Sherlock’s heart. It was electrifying but not in a good way. It felt like vultures were ripping apart his skin. His blood had thickened and he felt the pain as it pushed through his body trying to find an escape. He, himself, was looking for an escape. He could feel these animals pecking away at his arteries. He stared blankly ahead and tears began to fall. His lips suffered the cold of a thousand winters and they began to quiver. His cheekbones had never been so dominant as they were now.

This was Sherlock’s deepest, darkest secret and he had condemned himself for having said it out loud. That is how he felt. John’s denial had pushed Sherlock into a river. Slowly he began to drown.

John could flee from his desires and disappear into nothingness; the unforgiving wind his only friend. Or he could stay. Stay and relish in the fire that was their love. John was torn between what he felt in his heart and what he had to do. He could not begin to explain to Sherlock why he was obligated to leave and break his heart. He knew that if he offered any comfort it would be twice as hard to abandon him and it would certainly gaurantee his death. They were watching and he would never put his life in danger. 

John took one last look at the curls that formed around Sherlock’s face. He looked at his lips, his cheekbones, then back up at his eyes. Each eye movement was a brush stroke on the painting he was creating in his mind. He said internally, “I love you". He hoped that somehow Sherlock heard it. He gave a faint smile and whispered, "Forgive me." Then he left.

Sherlock watched him slowly walk down the stairs and heard the door close soon after. He felt that impact within his chest. He began to suffocate. However, this was nothing compared to what was to come. 

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...


End file.
